


i will go to you like first snow

by calmthestorms



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Snowball Fight, Winter, but in a very quiet soft way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmthestorms/pseuds/calmthestorms
Summary: Time slows, turns syrupy and gilded, reduced to pinprick after pinprick of snowflakes on his skin. Kiyoomi is so absorbed that he doesn’t notice the figure in front of him until too late.“Hey, Omi-kun,” Atsumu chirps brightly.Kiyoomi’s eyes fly wide open. Atsumu is dressed in a thick beige coat and black pants. There’s a hideously charming monstrosity of a hat in the shape of an onigiri jammed on his head—inspired by Osamu, no doubt—and it looks to topple over any second now. Underneath it, his hair is disheveled, soft gold in the lamplight.He looks angelic.He’s also carrying a giant armful of snow.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 193





	i will go to you like first snow

There’s a lovely, fragile magic that hangs in the air during the hush of a first snow.

Kiyoomi breathes in deeply, embracing the cold burn in his lungs. He breathes out, slow, watching the soft white clouds drift away, lost to the wind. The sounds of the world quiet around him, buried under the layers of white coating the ground, the treetops, the MSBY Jackals building behind him. It is frigid, frost nipping at his bare hands and ears and face. With every blink, snowflakes clump on his eyelashes and hair, holding on with tiny, grasping fingers. The sky is a glow of whirling white and golden lamplight.

There exists only this moment, this unreality. This one instance where the world seems clean and pure.

This is the moment he seeks every winter.

Kiyoomi tilts his head back, letting the snowflakes kiss his cheeks. He sticks out his tongue on a sudden, childish impulse, and scrunches his nose as he feels the bursts of cold dissolve on his tongue. A soft smile rises to his face, unbidden; he would do the same as a child whenever it snowed, the sole time he would let go of his reserve, entranced with a world made clean and new. _Nee-chan!_ he would yell, stomping around delightedly in his tiny boots, shrieking as the snow hit his upturned face. _It’s snowing! It’s winter!_ His sisters found it the sweetest thing, he thinks, amused. He hears the echoes of their laughter, their hugs and coos. The memory is as warm as the fleece scarf around his neck.

In and out, he breathes, face turned to that ethereal sky, watching the gentle whorls of white twirl and twist and twine through the air. Just a little while longer, he thinks, a smile curving his mouth as he basks in contentment, letting his eyes droop lazily.

Time slows, turns syrupy and gilded, reduced to pinprick after pinprick of snowflakes on his skin. Kiyoomi is so absorbed that he doesn’t notice the figure in front of him until too late.

“Hey, Omi-kun,” Atsumu chirps brightly.

Kiyoomi’s eyes fly wide open. Atsumu is dressed in a thick beige coat and black pants. There’s a hideously charming monstrosity of a hat in the shape of an onigiri jammed on his head—inspired by Osamu, no doubt—and it looks to topple over any second now. Underneath it, his hair is disheveled, soft gold in the lamplight.

He looks angelic.

He’s also carrying a giant armful of snow.

“No! _”_ Kiyoomi shouts, a split second before Atsumu flings the pile over his head.

Kiyoomi _screams_ bloody murder.

The snow is _biting¸_ sliding over his coat and down the front of his shirt. He leaps to his foot, hopping from one foot to the other, gasping as the snow melts and icy trails of water soak through his outer layers. He shakes his head furiously, snow flying off his curls and his face. “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” he chokes out.

Atsumu is bent nearly double, wheezing soundlessly from how hard he’s laughing. His hands flail in front of him as he tries to get his breath.

“Jeez, Omi-Omi, you looked so perfect and angelic staring up at the sky like that, I just couldn’t stand it!” Atsumu gasps out. 

Kiyoomi stares at him, dead-eyed.

Atsumu’s eyes are watering from the force of his laughter, and he scrunches them closed as he dissolves again into howling cackles. “Your face, Omi-kun! Your _face!_ ” he crows, actually _slapping his knees_ like the corny fucker he is.

Moving very slowly, very deliberately, Kiyoomi gathers two handfuls of snow and stalks towards Atsumu. His fingers, already freezing, feel like blocks of ice now, but Kiyoomi doesn’t care. He’s out to kill.

He looms over Atsumu, waiting…waiting…

Atsumu heaves a happy sigh as his last laughs fade away. He looks up, and his face freezes comically, and _ah_ , that was the expression Kiyoomi was waiting for. Kiyoomi watches bleak realization set into his eyes.

“Oh, fuck.”

Kiyoomi _pounces._

He knocks Atsumu into the snow with his shoulder and promptly sits on him, half-straddling him. Atsumu yelps and bucks underneath him. “Please, please, please, I’m sorry!” he squeals, but Kiyoomi had all the mercy frozen out of him two minutes ago.

He lifts up the front of Atsumu’s coat and shoves the snow straight in. Then, for good measure, in the split second before he knows the sensation will register, he dumps snow onto Atsumu’s face.

Atsumu’s screams ring through the courtyard, and this time his wriggling is so fierce that Kiyoomi gets knocked sideways into the snow beside him. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! You bastard! You piece of shit! What the fuck!” Atsumu’s swears get more and more creative, and Kiyoomi is mildly impressed. He notes down a few to use later.

“What did you expect?” he asks, getting to his feet. Atsumu stares at him, wild-eyed, and staggers to his feet, his shoulders set with purpose.

 _Oh, this is happening now_ , Kiyoomi realizes. But his own competitive spirit burns in his chest, and the world is still quiet and beautiful even with the events of the past few minutes, and his brain is quieter than usual. _Okay_ , he thinks. _Let’s do this._

The ensuing snowball fight is brutal. The snow has piled up to their shins, so they can hardly run, and so their strategy involves a lot of scuffling and pushing each other over, with the aim of getting snow _somewhere_ on the other person’s body. By the end of it, Kiyoomi’s sides hurt from laughing and he’s more snow than person. Atsumu isn’t much better, his hair dark yellow and crusted with ice, his clothes completely soaked.

Kiyoomi collapses back onto the bench, and Atsumu sits beside him heavily. Kiyoomi should be freezing, but instead, he feels so, so warm. _Hypothermia setting in_ , says the logical part of his brain.

Kiyoomi sneaks a glance at the faint, beautiful grin on Atsumu’s face, the mirth and happiness shining in his eyes.

 _Fine,_ says the logical part of his brain. _It’s him, too._ _But also hypothermia. Get inside, Kiyoomi_.

He hums, and Atsumu turns to meet his eyes. “What?” Atsumu asks.

Kiyoomi sends him a sidelong look. “’I looked ‘perfect and angelic,’ huh?”

Atsumu shrugs blithely, a faint flush rising to his cheek. “Yeah. Like you didn’t know that, though.”

Kiyoomi nods, and Atsumu snorts, amused. “Real humble, Omi-Omi.”

“Please. You wouldn’t know humble if it hit you in the head.”

Atsumu whines aloud, but then he relaxes. “Hey,” he says, quiet, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “You want to get dinner at Onigiri Miya tomorrow?” He swallows. “For our second date?”

Kiyoomi stares at him, uncomprehending. Atsumu is glowing, the falling snow gently framing his face. “Second date,” he murmurs. “Was this our first?”

Atsumu looks sheepish. “Wasn’t it?”

Warmth blooms in Kiyoomi’s chest. His heart soars. To think that this is how they happen, how they fall together after months of inexorable, inevitable connection, so much more quietly than he would have imagined possible with Miya Atsumu...Kiyoomi is sentimental enough to think that it feels exactly right.

“Alright,” he says, softly, and Atsumu’s face lights up. His smile is brilliant, as dazzling as the light reflecting off the snow.

Kiyoomi reaches over, bare fingers of one hand gently interlocking with Atsumu’s, and even though he can’t feel his fingers anymore, the touch burns—pleasantly, for once, his brain strangely accepting of it in this magic hush around them. The other hand hesitantly rests on Atsumu’s cheek.

“Can I?” Atsumu whispers, and Kiyoomi nods. It is quiet, how they lean in and meet each other halfway, lips cold but plush and melting into each other’s. Understated, soft, lovely. Just like the snow.

For the second time that night, there exists only this moment, suspended in time. Except, Kiyoomi knows, he doesn’t have to wait every winter for this feeling.

Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not really up to par with my regular writing, but I had a lot of fun writing this! Winter is my favourite season, so i just had to project that onto Sakusa. Hope you enjoy, and please leave kudos and comments; I love them so much!


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